Sherlock The Sociopath
by Blackcurrant Bonbons
Summary: Sherlock was a bear. A metaphorical bear. A great big, scowly, growly, grizzly, sociopathic grump of a bear. But can John Watson - with the help of a few golden 'stars' - break the shell and tame the beast within?


**Hello there reader! Welcome to the story. In my opinion, it's complete and utter crack! (Never written anything remotely amusing before, so take it easy please!) Hope you enjoy, and please leave a little review at the end, even if it's just an ':)'. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong><span>Sherlock The Sociopath<span>**

**by **

**Blackcurrant Bonbons**

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><p>Sherlock was a bear.<p>

A metaphorical bear.

A great big, scowly, growly, grizzly, sociopathic grump of a bear.

He lived all alone in a musty, dusty flat, namely 221b Baker Street.

Nobody ever came to visit.

And that suited him just fine.

Everyone hid when they saw him coming.

Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Sally, Anderson, the list was endless. Even Mycroft.

They called him 'Sherlock the Sociopath.'

"HUMPH!" went Sherlock to show he didn't care, stalking by; his chest inflated with his oh so superior intellect.

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><p>One morning, Sherlock was stomping down Baker Street when he was confronted with an unusual sight...<p>

Sitting on the branches of an overhanging tree, sat a man. He was obviously stuck, but flailing tried to cover his predicament by nonchalantly reclining against the trunk.

"Um, excuse me! I could use a little help here! I'm stuck! Can you help me down please, thank you very much." The man shouted down to Sherlock, his face blushing red with shame as he asked for help.

"HUMPH!" scowled Sherlock, and turned to walk away.

"Oh please, PLEEEEEEASE get me down!" pleaded the man. Sherlock snorted at the plead.

But much to Sherlock's surprise, he found himself lifting the little man – for he was a little man compared to Sherlock, although stockily built (Afghanistan or Iraq?) – gently down to the ground.

"Thank you Mr..." The man began.

"Holmes. Sherlock Holmes."

"Thank you very much Mr Holmes. I'm John Watson, by the way." said the man. "You see, there was a fallen star caught in the tree so I had to rescue it, but then I got stuck and then you had to rescue me. Here." John said, with a smile." You can have it."

Sherlock crinkled his nose in disdain as John carefully placed a soggy, dripping leaf onto his unwillingly outstretched palm. "It's not a star you idiot, it's a lea-..." The hurt look on John rendered him silent instantly.

With once last smile, John turned and walked off in the opposite direction.

Sherlock thought the 'star' looked a lot like a leaf but he took it home anyway and placed it on his mantelpiece, next to the skull. Needless to say, it did not look happy sharing its living space with a wet, dead thing.

But it seemed so golden and beautiful that it made Sherlock realise just how musty and dusty his flat had become.

And for the first time in a very long time, he cleared the fridge and table of his experiments and dusted away some of the cobwebs.

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><p>A few days later, Sherlock was collecting samples of soil from the riverbank of the Thames when a sinking inflatable boat floated past. Clinging to the sinking ship was John Watson, holding an orange pointy thing.<p>

"Hello, Sherlock." said John, soggily. "As you can see I'm in a little predicament. Could you help me out of the water please, thank you very much?"

"Humph!" went Sherlock. But then he reached over to lift the little man safely onto the riverbank.

"Thank you Sherlock!" said John. "There was another fallen star in the water and I had to rescue it. Thank you for being so kind. Will you look after it for me?"

But Sherlock just turned and lumbered away. He was feeling a bit funny. Nobody had ever called him 'kind' before."

"Sherlock, Sherlock, come back!" cried John, running after him. "I can't look after it on my own!"

Sherlock tried picking up his pace, but John really was persistent. He followed him home all the way to Baker Street, and as Sherlock reached the front door, he turned. "Okay, Okay! I'll take it!" Sherlock snarled. And snatching the star out of John's hand, he slammed the door behind him.

Sherlock placed the star on the mantelpiece next to his other star. They looked so clean and colourful that they made him realise just how grim and grimy his flat still was.

So for the first time in a very long time he swept up all the old, mouldy fingers from previous experiments off the floor.

Now his flat was very clean. But it was bare and empty and suddenly Sherlock felt like a sociopath who was empty inside too.

He started to feel sad...

And when he'd finished feeling sad he started to feel cross...

And he was right in the middle of feeling cross when there was a knock on the door.

"WHAT IS IT NOW?" he shouted.

It was John with a whole barrow full of stars.

"Hello, Sherlock," John said worn-outly. "There was lots and lots of fallen stars and I had to rescue them..."

"GO AWAY!" Sherlock roared. "I DON'T WANT ANYMORE OF YOUR STUPID STARS!"

Then to his great surprise, John burst out into tears.

Sherlock felt terrible. He wanted John to stop crying but he didn't know what to do. He tried pulling silly faces... But that didn't work.

He did a funny dance... But that didn't work either.

Then he sat down next to him and said:

"I'm sorry I shouted at you, John, I really am a grizzly old sociopathic grump of a bear." Sherlock lowered his head in shame.

John stopped crying and tried a little smile. And for the first time in a very long time, Sherlock smiled too!

Sherlock and John scattered the stars around the flat, laughing out loud as they fell like fiery snowflakes all about them.

John stayed with Sherlock until it was nearly dark.

"Will you come again soon?" asked Sherlock, a look of childlike innocence and glee spread across his countenance.

"Very soon!" John smiled, closing the flat door behind him.

Sherlock gave a great big yawn and snuggled down to sleep in his warm, starry bed.

And for the first time in a very long time, he was happy.


End file.
